A Deadly Draught (14 page)

“Yeah, isn’t it the way. I’ve got the water, but no money.”

Rafe put his hand on my arm to stop me as we were hurrying for the cars. “I’d like to offer you a small loan to tide you over the summer.”

“No, no, you’ve done enough.”

“Let me finish. I’d like to make the offer, but I can’t. With the cost of the hops I use on the rise and this issue of water coming up, I’m close to the edge myself.”

I was shocked.
Rafe with no money?

“It’s only temporary until I can get payment from some of my larger customers.” He looked uncomfortable at this confession, and his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. Was he lying about something?

On the way into town in Jake’s car, I shared my concerns over Rafe’s comments with Jake, but Jake didn’t see Rafe’s financial condition as odd.

“This winter was a rough one. The ski resorts couldn’t make snow because of the warm winter. We only got one substantial snowfall, and it melted in two days. Everyone’s feeling the pinch around here. Why shouldn’t Rafe?”

Maybe Jake was right. I guess most of us thought Rafe’s pockets were bottomless. I leaned over to check the outside rear view mirror. The Mercedes followed us.

“I always thought of Rafe as wealthy. I mean, he inherited all that money, and I know he didn’t come close to using all of it when he bought the brewery. I think it’s strange, that’s all.”

“Okay. I’ll check into it.”

“No, don’t. I didn’t mean for you to get involved. I like Rafe.”

“I do, too, but I have to check on everybody associated with the Ramford murder. Rafe’s financial situation may be relevant.”

Dinner was not a success. Rafe was quiet, not mentioning whatever it was he wanted to talk to me or to Jake about. My head was off doing mental calculations of how long into the fall I could continue the Saturday tastings before I ran out of product. The pizza arrived, and we settled down to eat, but before Jake could slide a second bite into his mouth, his pager trilled.

“Sorry. Emergency. I’ll get back to you.” He threw a twenty onto the table and left. Rafe and I ate a slice each in silence, then had the waitress wrap the rest.

He dropped me off at my house, refusing an offer for coffee. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet.”

The earlier consumption of scotch caught up with me, and all I wanted was a pillow under my head. I was grateful Rafe turned down the coffee. One quick peek at my brew, a walk through the barn, and I locked up for the night. The scotch knocked me out, but not before I reviewed my earlier calculations as well as the kiss Jake and I had shared.

Thirteen

The convertible shot up my drive and slammed to an abrupt halt in front of the brew barn door, where I was standing. I watched as Michael got out of the driver’s side and noticed that Cory occupied the passenger’s seat. I waved at her. She flapped her hand at me and opened a mirror to check her face. She smiled at her image and flipped the compact shut. Then she looked back at me, her glance traveling from my wind-blown hair to my dirty flannel shirt and my torn jeans. Her sculpted nose wrinkled slightly when she reached my mud-covered boots.

“Coming to the county board meeting tonight?” asked Michael.

“Of course. All of the brewers should be there. We need to present a united front to the board and make our requirements for water known, or we’ll all be out of business,” I said.

“Except for you. You’ll have all the water you need, although I can’t say much for your financial future with no hops or barley in your barn.” What he said reflected my own words last night to Rafe and Jake.

“I’m working on that,” I said. I tried to put more confidence in my voice than I felt.

“Let me help you a little, then. Here’s the deal. Our wells are low, and I’m sure the county is not going to worry about providing the breweries with public water. All of us except for you will be buying it from Indian Springs across the ridge. The cost of the water and of hauling it will eat up our profits. Tell you what. I’ll pay you ten cents for every gallon of water you let me take from your well, up to a point, of course. I don’t want you to go dry.” He laughed.

“Is this little scheme yours or Stanley’s” I asked.

“Well, of course Stanley knows about it,” Michael said.

“Because it was his idea, right?”

“You’re going to make me angry with your suspicious attitude. What other options do you have? This way, you get enough income to stay afloat for the summer.”

“Barely enough, and my well isn’t bottomless, you know. If the county board imposes mandatory restrictions on private wells, I wouldn’t be able to sell you my water anyway.”

“There are ways around that, you know,” Michael said.

“That doesn’t sound like you talking. It sounds like Stanley or … “

“My father. I sound like my father. He’d find a way around the law, and I will, too.” Michael’s face took on a look of stubborn determination.

“My well could go dry, too, you know.”

“Until then, you might as well make a little easy money. Come on. It’s a fair deal.” Michael’s usual pleasant and charming smile replaced the look of grim determination there just a minute ago. He reached out his hand and placed it on my shoulder and squeezed. I heard the car door open.

“We need to get going to make our tee time,” Cory said. She swung her hip into Michael’s while placing her hand on his. “Michael?” she purred. “Don’t make us late.”

I ignored her and gave Michael a friendly pat on the hand still resting on my shoulder.

“Let me offer a counter deal. You pay me the same amount for my water that you’re paying Indian Springs.”

“That’s robbery,” Michael said. He dropped his hand and moved away from Cory’s embrace, shoving his face inches from mine. “I can’t make any money that way.”

“Of course you can. You save money on your hauling fees. It’s only a short sprint for the trucks to carry the water from my well to your storage tanks. I think I’m being more than fair.”

“Mickey?” Cory’s voice was now more insistent, and she was using a nickname I’d never heard him called by before.

I looked at Cory’s golf get-up, so new I was surprised tags weren’t still attached to her white skirt and pink knit shirt. Michael’s mouth opened to say something else, but I beat him to it.

“What’s your handicap?” I asked Cory.

“What?” she asked.

“Your handicap, Dear. In golf.”

“I don’t have a handicap. Do you see one of those parking permits hanging off the mirror on my car?” She gestured toward the convertible.

“See you tonight.” I turned back toward the doorway to the barn. “I’ll give you until then to decide on my offer.”

As I entered the barn, I heard Cory’s voice, whining and angry now. “What’s she saying about me? Do I look handicapped?”

“Just get in the car. We’ll set you up with the course pro for some lessons.” Michael sounded exasperated, whether at me or Cory or both, I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t really care.

Mickey,
I thought to myself.
Whoever called Michael
Mickey
? I chuckled and opened the fermentation hatch.
I’m
making ale.
I sang a little brewing song to myself as I worked.

*

“This is bedlam,” said Rafe. The two of us arrived early to the county board meeting and took the last two empty seats in the back. “All the golf course owners, farmers, the hospitals, colleges, and the brewers are here as well as other businesses and private landowners.” The room was so packed with people fifteen minutes prior to the start of the meeting that the overflow was led off to another room to watch the proceedings on closed circuit television.

I turned to search out the other brewers. Francine had come early and sat beside Marsh in the front row, while Teddy, Michael, and Stanley, arriving minutes after Rafe and me, took up positions standing at the back wall.

The chairman of the board called for the meeting to come to order, and the room quieted.

“Some people don’t believe we have a water crisis, but with the rate wells are going dry in this county and the lowered water level in the river and nearby lakes, we’re in trouble.”

“Maybe some of us got trouble,” said an angry voice from the rear of the room. “You can’t tell me not to draw water from my own well.”

“Let’s calm down here. We’re not at the point of mandatory restrictions, but we may have to phase them in if we don’t get rain soon. We’ll lay out what we think is a good plan and then get comments from the floor. Until then, let’s not interrupt,” said the chairman. He wiped perspiration from his shiny forehead with a handkerchief. By the look on his face, I suspected he knew this would not be an easy meeting.

“Fine, but it’s my damn water,” retorted the voice. I turned to see Hank Johnson, one of the area dairy farmers, put his arm on the speaker and pull him back into his chair.

“There won’t be any water in your well either if you don’t take some conservation measures,” said Hank. His friend shrugged Hank’s hand off his shoulder, sat back with his arms crossed, and scowled.

“Let’s move on here, and we’ll get to everyone’s comments soon,” said the chairman.

Rafe and I both thought the county presented a reasonable plan calling for voluntary conservation for now, but I knew if we didn’t get substantial rainfall in the next few weeks, the county would be forced to go to the second phase of their plan—mandatory restrictions for water usage.

Teddy voiced the concerns of all of the brewers as we stood together outside the county office building after the meeting: “This isn’t going to be one of those years where any of us makes money.”

“No expansion for you this year,” said Stanley to Michael. He wandered off to his car and left. Michael’s gaze followed the car out of the lot and then turned to me, putting his hand in the small of my back and steering me away from the others. He looked troubled, and his next words reflected his concern.

“So, how about it?” he asked.

“How about what?” I asked. I knew I was being mean to him by acting as if I didn’t know what he wanted, but the presence of Stanley and the realization he was the one running the Ramford brewery put me in a bad mood.

“Our well is about played out, and we’ll have to begin buying our water. I need water, and I need it at a reasonable price.”

“Or?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he jammed his hands in his pants’ pockets. He looked down at his feet.

“Or Stanley will quit.”

“So what? Then you do the brewing. You’ve been doing it for years anyway.”

“I sold him all of Ramford’s recipes. If he walks, he takes our brews with him.”

His words shocked and angered me. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Does your mother know? What were you thinking to give away your formulas?” My heart felt for him, but my brewer’s instinct told me what he did was both short-sighted and unnecessary. No one bought a brewer by giving him the rights to the brewery’s recipes. He’d gotten himself into a pickle, and he needed to get himself out.

“Make up new recipes then. You can do it. Unless you sold him more than the recipes.”

Michael said nothing, merely shook his head and walked away from me. As much as I might have wanted to help him, it was clear anyone getting in bed with the Ramford enterprise just now was in for trouble. Ronald, one of the heirs, couldn’t be located, and Michael was signing off on deals with little authority to do so. I wondered what else Stanley had control over at the brewery.

Michael was wrong about Stanley. The man had too much under his thumb to walk off at this point. Meantime, Stanley would let Michael worry about the water while he continued to collect his salary and sit in Mr. Ramford’s big office chair.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Michael,” said Rafe. We were standing by our vehicles and saying our goodbyes to Teddy, Francine, and Marsh. Rafe and I watched as the others left in their cars. I thought Rafe had something on his mind, so I leaned my hip against my truck and waited for him to speak.

“I had an idea, and I understand if you feel you must remain loyal to Michael, but … Well, I’ll just say it. Would you be willing to let me have some of your water? I can’t pay for it straight out, but I could trade you some of my hops, yeast, and barley for it.”

I never expected such an offer from Rafe, and it left me almost speechless.

“Your well showing signs of drying up?” I asked.

“I’m still pumping water, but the silt in it is causing my filters to slow down. It doesn’t look good. I know you’d rather have money for the water, but I can’t offer that just now.”

I waited.

“I’m not going to tell you why I’m short either. It’s something you don’t need to know, and it’ll just get you into trouble if you do know.”

“I’ll sell you water. Sure I will. I’d rather you get the benefit of my well than anyone else. Teddy may grumble, but he can pay to have his water shipped in, and Francine’s on a city water line. She’s okay for now.”

“And Michael?”

“I don’t want to talk about Michael, because if I do, I’ll have to talk about Stanley, and that’ll raise my blood pressure.” I held out my hand to Rafe.

“It’s a deal,” I said. We shook hands, two old business people happy to barter their way to financial solvency—at least until the rains came.

Fourteen

I had meant to do this days ago, soon after I found those letters. I rang the bell and heard its tone reverberate throughout the Ramford house. No one came to the door, yet all the cars except for Michael’s were parked in the drive. I turned the knob and stuck my head in.

“Hello. Anyone home?” No answer.
Everyone must be out at the brew barn.

I entered the barn by the gift shop door. Claudia might be there restocking books, snacks, mustard, and beer. It was empty, so I turned toward the door to the brewing area. The last time I’d been here was the night I’d found Mr. Ramford. I shivered and stopped. Silly of me to be so spooked. It was daytime. There could be no murderers hiding in the shadows now.

The door stood ajar, and I could hear someone talking. Stanley. Oh, no. Not the person I wanted to see today or ever. I turned to go back to the gift shop but heard the name “Teddy” mentioned. Was Teddy here? I returned to the door and leaned toward the opening. I could see Stanley with his cell phone to his ear. I had to eavesdrop. After all, I was serving as Jake’s snitch on the murder, and who knew whether Stanley might be important in some way.